Ruben Hypen, 25 years old, emotionless.
That's me.
Diagnosed as emotionless by the random reporter who interviewed me for "psychological purposes".
All I have to my name is a generic fantasy themed novel I wrote in high school when I was 15.
Everything started to burn down when I turned 16.
From there my childhood best friend died,
My parents died,
And my soul may as well have also died.
The only reason why I lived to 25 is because of my sister.
She fell on her head that same year during a competition and was in a coma, but was still alive, still breathing.
And as her older brother, I had to save her.
Save my 13 year old little sister like… no, my life actually depended on it.
If my sister died there wouldn't be any point in living anymore
Jade has always been active, she was in almost all the sports clubs in school. But on the same day I got back from a field trip she fainted while running.
I don't believe in regret.
There wasn't a point.
There was nothing I could do.
I can't turn back time.
I'm not a god.
On May 29th, my sister died.
In a coma for almost a decade seems unbelievable and somehow I still believed she would wake up someday.
BRRRRR- BRRRRR-
I picked up my phone while simultaneously typing with my other hand and held it to my ear with my shoulder.
"Hello, is this Mr.Hypen? Jade Valor's guardian?"
Standing up abruptly I asked
"Yes, this is him. Has anything happened?"
My heart was pounding really hard again, it seemed to do that all the time now. Did she wake up? She really was my step sister, I'm too weak to have been her real brother.
After a few seconds the person on the other side replied.
"Mr.Hypen, I am calling to tell you that Jade has passed away. I'm truly sorry for your loss."
My eyes widened.
They were already blood shot from staying up for 3 day straight but having experienced 3 major losses in the same year I turned old enough to drive I didn't cry.
I couldn't.
But the hope I had, believing, I truly really believed she would come back to me.
The loneliness was overbearing.
My face didn't change when I arrived.
Staring at her stone cold body I resolved myself.
I too, was going to die today.
One might say I was stupid. That I could still live even with no one by my side, but I wasn't only alone. I was overworked, emotionless, and had no passion for anything.
I've already tried many things in life.
Whether it was singing, dancing, cooking, or playing any kind of instrument, I wasn't interested.
Especially sports, because why would I like something so physically taxing?
I stayed home.
It was a Friday night and the bustling streets below my apartment building were blinding.
I saw people enjoying themselves, drinking alcohol, talking with friends, kissing their lovers.
My face remained indifferent.
I wont believe in regret.
I'll look back knowing it wasn't my fault, that I did my best. And despite all of that, I couldn't change anything.
*DING*DONG*
My doorbell rang.
I ordered a knife because I knew nobody would look for me so I decided I would kill myself in front of the delivery person.
Not because I wanted everyone to know I committed suicide.
Not because I wanted to traumatize a random person.
No.
But because I didn't want my corpse creating a rotting smell for my neighbors to sniff.
Opening the door revealed a young short lively woman with a smile on her face who looked like she would be Jade's age if she lived long enough.
I hesitated.
I couldn't do it.
Noticing I was in a daze she shrugged and left shortly after.
I'm pathetic.
Now my neighbor will have to suffer in turn.
It's fine though, at least it won't create a scene like 9 years ago.
Cutting the tape aligned with the box with a butter knife I sighed.
The only reason I ordered it was because the knives I currently had weren't sharp enough.
Looking at it directly now I felt like it stared back at me.
I was scammed.
I'm trying to kill myself yet I still ordered a very cheap knife off of a second hand website.
It was tiny.
Very tiny.
Like 3 inches tiny.
Of course it was tiny, 5 dollars for a normal knife? Yeah right.
Still, it was better than nothing.
Ripping out the tiny knife from the package I stabbed myself.
Specifically in my neck.
It didn't penetrate, as expected.
For some reason as I was dying I thought about the novel I wrote about a decade ago.
The main character, I gave him everything.
A family, friends, power, feelings.
Everything, even money.
Never would I have thought that I would lose all of those things in the same year I finished writing.
[Thud]
My body fell to the cold hard floor.
My blood spilled on to the floor rapidly like a broken dam to a river. I stared at the wall as my eyes started to dull, the smell of metal filling my lungs.
I died.
…
Waking up I… wait a minute, waking up?
Pushing myself off the soft plush bed I somehow naturally walked up toward the nearest bathroom.
Looking in the mirror I wanted to gasp.
Heh, you thought.
Nothing really changed actually.
Just that I looked like what, about 10 years younger?